


When A Man Wants Revenge...

by Bluewolf458



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Sentinel Thursday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 09:16:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11288271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Bluewolf458
Summary: Flight 504 from Seattle was late...





	When A Man Wants Revenge...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sentinel Thursday prompt 'airport'

  
When A Man Wants Revenge...  
  
by Bluewolf  
  


  
  
Flight 504 from Seattle was running - flying? - late.  
  
People waiting at the airport for its 9am arrival displayed varying degrees of patience as the minutes ticked on - but after ten minutes the arrivals board still showed only one word - 'Delayed' - against its flight number.  
  
During those ten minutes, three other planes had arrived, and their passengers were now making their way towards the exit, many of them slowed by meeting friends and relatives who had come to collect them and take them home. A few moved towards the airport's cafe where they would spend their layover time drinking coffee.  
  
Blair fidgeted restlessly, willing the word on the arrivals board to change.  
  
There was the chime of the airport's announcement system. "Would visitors waiting for the arrival of Seattle Flight 504 please go to waiting room four."  
  
Blair knew instantly that there was something seriously wrong.  
  


  
  
***

  
  
There were enough people waiting for the flight to fill the waiting room.  
  
A minute after the last one arrived, a woman in airport dress walked in. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. As I assume most of you have already realized, there's a problem with Flight 504. It left Seattle at oh-eight-forty, and was due to arrive at nine hundred hours. Its pilot has not made contact with us. The last contact was when it signed out of Seattle airport's space.  
  
"The distance from Seattle to here is not great and it's a fairly well-populated area, but there have been no reports of a plane in obvious trouble. We can only assume that for some reason it has been hi-jacked.  
  
"If anyone wants to stay for a little longer in the hope that we do get some news soon, you're welcome to wait here; if you prefer to go home, leave a  contact number and someone will phone you as soon as we have any news."  
  
Blair hesitated. Stay or go? He pulled out his cell phone and called Simon.  
  
'Banks.'  
  
"Blair. Jim's plane is missing. They've lost contact with it."  
  


  
  
***

  
  
Ten minutes after takeoff, and the plane was already halfway to Cascade.  
  
Jim wasn't sorry. He didn't particularly like flying, especially on his own; the engine noise grated on his ears, the smell of so many people in such an enclosed space - even with recycled air - irritated his nose...  
  
He stiffened. Surely that was a gunshot? A single shot from the front of the plane. But there was no sign of the crew reacting. Jim tried to relax, and then his sense of direction kicked in.  
  
Something was wrong. The plane was off course by at least forty five degrees, and heading, not for Cascade but for the mountains to the east of Cascade; and they were getting closer by the second.  
  
Although it was a very short-haul flight, there was still a stewardess on board. She clearly noticed that he looked worried and moved to him.  
  
"We'll soon be landing, sir."  
  
Jim shook his head. "We're off course," he said. "We're heading too far north-east."  
  
"You can't know that, sir."  
  
"Have a look out of the window, miss, and tell me I'm wrong."  
  
She did, and her jaw dropped. "All right, sir, I'll check with the pilot." She moved quickly down the passageway; but she had only gone a few steps when the plane began to descend rapidly.  
  
Jim snapped his seat belt on, yelling "Fasten your seat belts, everyone!" He leaned forward, using his arms to protect his head.  
  
"Do it!" the stewardess echoed, dropping into an empty seat.  
  
Moments later the plane levelled off and hit the ground, sliding though trees that slowed its progress then halted it.  
  
Jim sat for a second then unfastened his seat belt and hit the button for the emergency door that happened to be beside his seat; and as the stewardess joined him, he heard another gunshot from the front of the plane.  
  
She clearly heard it too.  
  
"Get everyone out," Jim said. "I'm a cop - I'll check the pilot." He headed down the passageway, aware that the other passengers were beginning to react to the crash and hearing the stewardess's voice behind him.  
  
The cockpit was separated from the passenger area by a door; when he tried it, it was to find it locked, which didn't surprise him. A hard kick was enough to open it.  
  
The two men inside were both slumped in their seats; one was stirring weakly, the other was clearly dead; his face showed the damage done by a bullet. Jim moved to the living one. "What happened, sir?"  
  
He looked up weakly. "Ron... my co-pilot - shot me and took over. He... was divorced last month. He was muttering about his ex being on the flight, and  how much he wanted to kill her... so he was planning to crash the plane. I tried to tell him it wasn't right to kill everyone else as well... I didn't think he was listening, but he must have been. We were too low when he tried to pull out, but... "  
  
"It was a very controlled crash," Jim agreed. "Someone else might have been able to phone for help by now... " He was beginning to check the pilot's injury; a bullet wound to the chest. "I don't think you'll die from this, but you've lost quite a bit of blood. It won't be comfortable for you, but I think I need to get you out of here; it's not likely now, but there's always the chance the plane could go up in flames - something electrical shorting."  
  
Jim gathered the pilot into his arms and carefully carried him to the emergency exit.  
  
Outside, and with the stewardess taking charge of the injured pilot, he raised his voice again. "Has anyone been able to call for help?"  
  
He grinned wryly at the blank looks; although they were all safely out of the plane, it was clear that everyone was too shaken by what had happened to think of 'phone'. Probably some of the passengers didn't even have a cell phone...  
  
"Couldn't get a signal," one man said.  
  
"Okay. I'll do it." He looked round, walked over to a tall tree, scrambled into its branches, climbed well up it, and pulled out his cell phone.

  
  
  
***

  
  
One of about twenty people still sitting in the waiting room, Blair jumped when his phone rang. "Sandburg."  
  
"It's me, Chief." The voice crackled slightly. "Not a good signal... I'm halfway up a tree - the only way to get a signal at all.  The plane crashed, but the only fatality was the co-pilot - he killed himself."  
  
The waiting room door opened, and Blair said, "Hold on a sec."  
  
It was the woman who had spoken to them earlier. "Ladies and gentlemen - we've heard from Flight 504. It crashed, but it appears that the passengers are all safe and unhurt."  
  
There was an instant babble of relieved voices.  
  
Blair turned his attention back to the phone. "We've just had official word that you're safe. Were you hurt at all?"  
  
"No. I'll tell you about it when I see you. Can you call Simon, let him know?"  
  
"Will do. Will you all be taken to a hospital to be checked?"  
  
"Probably. Just wait at the loft, okay? I'll phone again if I get a chance, but there aren't any guarantees with something like this..." The phone crackled into silence.  
  
Blair rang off, put the phone back in his pocket and joined the line of people leaving the waiting room. He would phone Simon from his car, then head home.  
  
The least he could do would be to have a meal ready for when Jim finally got home.  
  
  



End file.
